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As a 14-year-old girl, Ragen Hatcher recalls hanging out with a friend at the Hatcher house in Gary when the phone rang.

Her friend answered the phone and after a brief moment she hung up. Hatcher asked her friend why she hung up the phone so quickly. Her friend said the caller claimed to be Jesse Jackson.

Rev. Jesse Jackson Sr. speaks during the funeral of Richard G. Hatcher, 86, at the Genesis Center in Gary, Ind. on Saturday, Dec. 21, 2019. Hatcher, who died on Dec. 13, was first elected in November 1967 as the first black mayor of Gary and is considered the first black mayor of a major American city. (Camille Fine / baiduhai)
Camille Fine / baiduhai
Rev. Jesse Jackson Sr. speaks during the funeral of Richard G. Hatcher, 86, at the Genesis Center in Gary, Ind. on Saturday, Dec. 21, 2019. Hatcher, who died on Dec. 13, was first elected in November 1967 as the first black mayor of Gary and is considered the first black mayor of a major American city. (Camille Fine / baiduhai)

Jackson called back, and this time, Hatcher said she answered. She gave the phone to her father Richard Hatcher, who was Gary Mayor at the time.

“It was just funny because it was so impossible for her, even as my friend and knowing who dad was, to imagine Jesse Jackson calling the house. She was like, ‘It was just somebody joking that they are Jesse Jackson and I hung up on them,’” Hatcher said.

Jackson, a protégé of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. who led the Civil Rights Movement for decades after the revered leader’s assassination, died on Tuesday, his family said. He was 84.

Jackson kept up his public advocacy for racial justice, economic and political inclusion, and civil and human rights for more than a half-century, even after a neurological disorder in his later years affected his ability to move and speak.

Bobby Seale, left, and the Rev. Jesse Jackson talk at the National Black Political Convention in Gary on March 12, 1972. (RJK / AP)
RJK / AP
Bobby Seale, left, and the Rev. Jesse Jackson talk at the National Black Political Convention in Gary on March 12, 1972. (RJK / AP)

Jackson and Richard Hatcher were close friends, now State Rep. Hatcher, D-Gary, said. They were such good friends, Hatcher said, that Jackson officiated her parents’ wedding in Boonville, Mississippi in 1976.

Growing up, Hatcher said she spent a lot of time in the Jackson family home and the Jackson family would come to her family home in Gary. Her father and Jackson bonded over what Black people, as well as other minority groups and women, “can and could achieve,” Hatcher said.

As a young girl, Hatcher said, she was often in a room with Jackson and other civil rights activists – like Dick Gregory and Alexis Herman – sitting as quietly as she could and listening to them share stories. They’d talk about the civil rights movement, like the Montgomery bus boycott or moving through the backwoods of Mississippi trying to get somewhere at night, she said.

“All you can do is sit as quietly as you can and you hope that you get to hear as much as you can before they realize there’s a kid in the room and they make you leave or something,” Hatcher said. “It was powerful.”

During the National Black Political Convention in Gary in 1972, Hatcher said Jackson and her father discussed creating a third political party that took into consideration the needs and issues that Black people faced in America.

The Rev. Jesse Jackson, civil rights icon and Chicago-based presidential candidate, dies at 84

“They were just always looking to see how they could advance Black people in America and not to the detriment of anyone else but in a way that gave Black people in America the same power and authority that others had,” Hatcher said.

At the convention, Jackson wore an MLK medallion and a trendy wide-collared shirt. He emboldened the crowd with his speech and fixed the convention theme.

“For 7.5 million registered Black voters and 6 million unregistered Black voters, what time is it?” he asked

“Nationtime,” the crowd roared.

“For Black Democrats, Black Republicans, Black Panthers, Black Muslims, Black independents, Black business owners, Black professionals, Black mothers on welfare, what time is it?”

Raising fists, they responded: “Nationtime.”

It served as a coming-out moment for Jackson, who would later modify his views in a 1988 presidential campaign.

“He had a knack for doing that,” said Rev. Dena Holland-Neal of Jackson’s connection with the audience in a 2021 Post-Tribune interview. “It comes out of the Black church, it’s call and respond. He was showing his roots in the church.”

Holland-Neal died in 2024.

Jackson’s demand for “Nationtime” is the title of a forgotten William Greaves documentary that was re-released in 2020.

Rev. Jesse Jackson remembered as one of the ‘last great leaders’ by Chicago friends and neighbors

Connecting with Northwest Indiana

Jackson fiercely supported Gary, Hatcher said.

“Whatever was going on in Gary, he was there. He was backing it up. He was making sure that Gary was seen as the model of how we treat people who have been oppressed for so many years,” Hatcher said.

When Jackson ran for president in 1984 and 1988, Hatcher said her father was his national campaign chairman. Until Barack Obama’s election in 2008, Jackson was the most successful Black candidate for the U.S. presidency, winning 13 primaries and caucuses for the Democratic nomination in 1988, four years after his first failed attempt.

“I was able to run for the presidency twice and redefine what was possible; it raised the lid for women and other people of color,” Jackson told the AP in 2011. “Part of my job was to sow seeds of the possibilities.”

When her father passed away in 2019, Hatcher said she’ll never forget how broken up Jackson was. During the service, Jackson was so overcome with grief that his son had to finish his remarks for him, Hatcher said.

Jackson told Hatcher and her siblings that they could always reach out to him after their dad passed, she said.

“He just said, ‘I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Whatever you would’ve asked your dad, I’m here.’ It meant a lot to us,” Hatcher said.

When looking back on Jackson’s life, Hatcher said his slogan of “keep hope alive” captures his legacy.

“He was always looking ahead. He was always hopeful that we would get to a place in our country where everyone was treated the same and equal,” Hatcher said. “I think that’s what we can take with us to keep that hope he had alive and to continue to move it forward.”

Karen Freeman-Wilson, the president of the Chicago Urban League, said she spoke with Jackson often when she was mayor of Gary. Even before she became mayor, Freeman-Wilson said she often saw Jackson in Gary because of his friendship with then-mayor Hatcher.

“He would come to public events. He would come to campaign events. I remember watching him as a teenager at that time,” Freeman-Wilson said. “He was just always supportive of Gary.”

When she was Gary mayor, Jackson would often tell her that anytime she wanted an issue or project amplified that he would help, Freeman-Wilson said.

Whenever she was able to talk with Jackson, Freeman-Wilson said she was always taken aback by how strategically he thought. For example, when discussions first began to repeal the Affordable Care Act, Jackson was one of the first to talk about how not only would people lose coverage but hospitals would be hit financially, she said.

“He was able to articulate for folks very often why they should help others and why it was in their interest,” Freeman-Wilson said. “He had a level of credibility that allowed people to trust him.”

Throughout his career, Jackson was “always working to pitch a big tent,” Freeman-Wislon said, particularly through his Rainbow PUSH Coalition, which focused on inclusion for everyone.

With Jackson’s passing, those who knew him and his work will miss his wit and ability to work and communicate with anybody, Freeman-Wilson said.

“You can be frank, but at the same time you can also embrace people in that frankness and that’s something that he had the ability to do,” Freeman-Wilson said. “He could disagree with a person without just necessarily ostracizing that person.”

Mayor Eddie Melton also released a statement expressing his condolences Tuesday, saying Jackson’s “voice, courage and conviction” reshaped American politics and strengthened the fight for justice.

“Rev. Jackson was more than a public figure to me,” Melton said. “I had the privilege of knowing him personally and building a relationship with him and his family. I witnessed their deep commitment to civil rights, fairness and expanding opportunity for those too often left behind. Their service was consistent. It was principled. And it was rooted in faith.”

Jackson’s legacy is woven into Gary’s fabric, Melton said.

Melton can remember watching Jackson’s speeches, specifically at the 1984 Democratic National Convention. Although Melton didn’t understand “every policy debate,” he said he understood Jackson’s strength and dignity, especially when Jackson said, “I am somebody.”

“(Those words) made me stand up straighter,” Melton said. “They made me proud. They made me understand that as a young Black man in America, my voice mattered, my life had value, and my future had purpose. That message didn’t just inspire me — it helped shape me. It planted seeds that would later grow into my own calling to serve.”

Gary Common Council members who, in a joint social media statement, called Jackson a “fearless advocate for economic inclusion, political empowerment and justice.”

“From the streets of the Civil Rights Movement to the national stage, Jackson challenged America to expand opportunity — pushing corporations, institutions, and government to recognize the power, potential and purchasing strength of Black communities,” the statement said. “His voice helped redefine what participation in business and democracy could look like for generations who had been locked out. … We extend our deepest condolences to his family and all who carry forward the work he so boldly advanced. His impact endures in every door opened, every barrier challenged and every generation inspired to demand more.”

Inspiring people to engage in the work

Indiana University Northwest Professor Emeritus James B. Lane first met Jackson in 2002. The campus was celebrating the 30th anniversary of the 1972 National Black Political Convention, and his wife, the late Toni Lane, had made him go to Goodwill to get an appropriate suit. He was awed by how much Jackson had grown into his stature.

“I first saw him in 1968; I was a grad student at the University of Maryland, so it was easy to get to D.C. Anyway, it was during a Poor People’s Campaign Solidarity Day, and he was a little disappointing,” Lane told the Post-Tribune. “He tried to get the crowd to chant, ‘Green power! Green power!’ and it was a little over the top. You could see he was very ambitious and not quite ready for the position he was in.”

By the time Lane saw him the second time, when IUN brought him to campus during the 1984 Presidential campaign, he’d “greatly matured” into a leader.

“(Richard) Hatcher had brought him there to Tamarack Hall, which held something like 1,000 people, and it was standing room only. He was amazing,” Lane said. “I was walking down the hall later, and a reactionary professor we had on campus was huddling with some of his students. I overheard him tell them, ‘He’s a brilliant orator but a dangerous man.’

“The Dems at the time weren’t talking as much about the working class, so he was a refreshing candidate who was talking truth. He taught people, especially Black people, more than anything to move within the system, even if they were two steps behind.”

So when Lane met Jackson in 2002, he was expecting Jackson to be the bombast he portrayed behind the microphone. That couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“He was very kind and very nice, not the egomaniac the press hounds made him out to be,” Lane said. “I was worried (the organizers) were going to have me talk right after him, but poor Dolly Millender got that honor.”

Valrie Kemp Davis, secretary of the East Chicago branch of the NAACP, said she first heard Jackson speak when she was about 14 years old at a church convention. Kemp Davis said she’ll “never forget” how impactful Jackson’s speech was, adding that it helped shape her dedication to fighting for civil rights.

When she was 21 years old, Kemp Davis heard Jackson speak again while she was a masters student at Clark Atlanta University. His talk was focused on his help in negotiating freedom talks for Prisoners of War.

Kemp Davis also worked on both of Jackson’s presidential campaigns, canvassing and knocking on doors.

“This man has been major in my life, along with people like my parents and other family,” Kemp Davis said. “He’s really sparked my interest to make a difference in society, help mankind and exercise my rights as a citizen of the United States.”

As a member of the NAACP, Kemp Davis remembers Jackson’s teachings and wants to use them to inspire a new generation of Black leaders and activists, she said.

“I know he’s gone now, and I’m so sad about that,” she said. “But I just want everyone to know that he was really impactful, not only to America, but to the world.”

Chairman of the Indiana Black Legislative Caucus State Rep. Earl Harris Jr., D-East Chicago, said in a statement that Jackson “dedicated his life to the service of others,” from his work at the Rainbow Coalition to protesting injustice to fighting for Democracy and for human rights around the world.

“He was led by his love for his fellow man and the belief that we’re all better off when everyone has the opportunity to thrive,” Harris said. “In the wake of this profound loss, I hope Rev. Jackson’s life and work inspires us all to move through life with a moral compass calibrated toward justice and the resolve to work toward a better world for everyone.”

The Urban League of Northwest Indiana also released a statement following the death of Jackson, saying the organization mourns but celebrates his legacy.

“… we share in the leadership of a great man whom we remember as a prominent figure not only in Black history but American history,” President Vanessa Allen-McCloud said in the statement. “He was a civil rights leader who fought for the rights of everyone. I am still empowered as I reflect on one of his most famous quotes, ‘I am somebody.’

“We extend our condolences to the Jackson family and all who are touched by his transition from this life to eternity. His strong unwavering commitment to justice and equality reaffirms and reminds me of my commitment, my calling, our calling, our ministry, our mission and our courage to lead within the Urban League of Northwest Indiana and the Northwest Indiana region.”

Stephen Mays, President of the NAACP’s Gary branch, said in a statement that Jackson was a transformative leader.

“Rev. Jackson had a national influence on several generations from the start of Operation PUSH to his momentous run for president in 1984 and 1988. He will be sorely missed for all the work he did in voting rights, civic engagement and economic injustice for all that he encountered and this great country in the world,” Mays said.

Freelance reporter Carole Carlson and The Associated Press contributed.